


i promise

by Foxfry



Series: tumblr had a little lams [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Child Abuse, Drawing, He sucks, Henry don't like gayness, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, angst kinda, kinda idk, or drawing, swearing because hamilton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 02:25:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10350339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxfry/pseuds/Foxfry
Summary: "we'll get you out of there"rating t because hamiltonwarning - swearing, referenced self-harm, child abuse





	

**Author's Note:**

> i feel like i needed to post something so i rushed this. don't worry this series will be much better. i'm going to try to update or post a new piece every friday.

"Fagot!"

John tumbled backwards, slipping on the shiny wooden floor. He winced and brought his hand towards his red face. Henry Laurens irrational glistening from his eyes. John crouched low to the ground, trying to sink into the floor.

"How dare you!" his father roared rage booming out from his voice. "How dare you!" His son's notebook cried for help from his father's selfish hands, but John couldn't do anything. "You disgusting fagot!" He tore open his sketchbook, flipping the pages in unmistakable fury. "This!" he barked, throwing the crimped page into his face. Sorrow swarm into his stomach already knowing what was to come. Before him stood a detailed drawing on a short teen with beautiful medium-length hair and a small scruff. Before he could comprehend, a light blush had formed on his freckled face. He earned another, hard slap and yelped. "Shut up you piece of oh wow!" he spat. "do not talk until i tell you to!" John nodded obediently, holding up his hand to his tear-stained face. "Who is this."

"I'm so-"

"Who is this!" Henry interrupted, smacking his son over the top of his head.

"Please don't hu-"

John screeched as his father clutched his chin, thrusting the paper into his face once once more. "If you don't tell me who the fuck this is," he growled. "I'll find him myself. And I will hurt him."

The southerner flinched, feeling the tears dripping down his face. "H-His n-name is Alexan-Alexander Ham-" The poor boy's voice froze up and a load sob escaped him.

"Alexander what?"

"Hamilton," John breathed out, curling himself into a bigger ball. "Alexander Hamilton." He heard a disgusted snort.

"Hamilton," his father hissed. "Alexander Hamilton." John flinched at the hatred from his voice.

"Dad plea-"

"No," Henry growled, ripping out the drawing as well as the boy's heart. "You are no longer a Laurens. And you are no longer my son. I want you out of this house and my life by the time I wake up or your little Alexander will get it." He lashed out with his foot, kicking John square in the gut. "Do you understand fagot?"

"Yes fa-" Kick. "Yes Mr. L-Laurens."

"Good," the man smirked, turning his attention to the blazing fireplace. He scoffed lightly, chucking his drawing into the burning flames. John let out a silent scream, watching hours of his labor crumbling into a black mess. He could feel tears dripping ever so lightly down his cheeks. Henry stomped, presumably to his room. John crawled sobbing toward the fireplace. The southerner whimpered as he bravely stuck his trembling hand into the fire. Quick as a fox, he grabbing the black artwork to his chest, patting down the flames. Pencil Alexander stared right at him with his always beautiful chocolate eyes. It was the only recognizable feature; everything else being smeared or burnt to a crisp. He smiled sadly, caressing the drawing.

_I might as well call him._

It was pretty much the only thing he could remember. Alex's demanding yet soft and caring voice.

_"If your dad ever does something to your or your family call me and we'll get you all out of here."_

Of course it was only him, weak little Johnny boy alone with his father. But surely he could give it a try? His shaking frame found his its way to his room with the paper still clutched to his chest. With a quick motion he closed the door. Lock.

John whipped the remaining tears from his face. He shuffled through his blankets landing among his phone. With a swipe, the phone was unlocked and he quickly clicked Alex's contact.

_Ri-_

_"Hello?"_

The teen found himself smiling slightly. Alex always had his phone on him, no matter what.

"Hey Alex."

_"John? What are you doing up at 2:30 in the morning?"_

"Says you. Let me guess, arguing with someone on twitter?"

" _I_ _will not stop until Trump takes back what he says about immigrants."_

 John chuckled lightly, causing him to groan and whimper in pain.

_"John are you okay?"_

John frowned. "A-Alex, he began, trembling. "You know how you said to call you if my dad hurts  me?"

_"Oh my god John what did he do are you okay?_

"He may have umm..." John inspected his arms, legs, and chest. "Uhh, a few bruises, scrapes, and    umm i think i got a black eye or something." 

 _"Oh my god,"_ There was a weird shuffle and a muffled shout.  _"Okay, where is he?"_

 "I think he's in his room."

  _"Okay,"_ another muffled shout.  _"Are there any sharp objects around?"_

  "Yeah, but I'm not evening thinking about hurting myself. But he said I needed to leave by the         time he wakes up. "

  " _Alright, George's coming over with the car . Can you get your stuff?"_

   "Yeah."

_"Okay, do you want me to stay on the phone?"_

   "I think I'll be fine, but could you?"

 "Yeah _of course. Just start packing up. You're gonna be okay. We'll get you out of there."_

  "Promise?"

_"I promise."_

 

 


End file.
